Interlude
by lakergal
Summary: Ever wondered how a giantess fell in love with Raoul? Just filling in some of the gaps in Squire...


Author's Note: This is the first part of a fanfiction I'm working on to post on the new Tortall webpage I'm making with my sister (*plug plug*). Hasn't been finished yet, but I was curious of what others thought of it, considering that it's the first fanfic that I've actually sat down and written. As always, please read and review! (do I sound a little desperate there? ^^;;)  
  
1 Interlude  
  
And we join our heroes in the middle of Squire, by Tamora Pierce...  
  
"Enough. We lived and you're depressing me," Buri said, nudging his foot with hers. "Tell her about that giantess who fell in love with you that year."  
  
"Aw, Buri!" he protested.  
  
"Giantess?" Kel asked, wide-eyed. "Come on, tell!"  
  
Raoul sighed half-heartedly and began to speak.  
  
~  
  
I'd just been named Knight Commander of the King's Own a few months before Jon's coronation, and the entire regiment was in shambles. You're probably too young to remember King Roald's reign, Kel, but he was known throughout the Eastern Lands as the Peace-Maker and he did his best to live up to his title, whatever the cost to his lands. Mithros, I remember one year just after I was knighted, when we stumbled our way through an entire war with Tusaine without going on the offensive once because he didn't want to offend the very people we were fighting with. If it hadn't been for Squire Alan...that's how we all knew Alanna, back when she was still disguised as a boy...we'd still be mired on the eastern bank of that wretched river.  
  
Well, Roald's regard for his reputation took precedence over his concerns about Tortall's safety. I guess he figured we hadn't seen a real war for years, or he disliked the heavy-handed governing of his father, King Jasson. Whatever the reason, he let the King's Own go to seed under his command. Until he died, they were little more than a gaggle of nobles with pretty armor and dull battle skills. If you think First Company is bad now, Kel, you'd be ashamed to see how horrible it was before I took command. Back then, you could stick a sword in one of the men's hands and point him towards the battle, and he'd STILL be guessing which end he was supposed to use to poke at the enemy.  
  
~  
  
"And they're any different nowadays?" Buri inquired with a wicked grin. "If I remember correctly, Sir Raoul, the Riders have been stuck with most of your duties for the past few months. Don't you think that your noble regiment might have lost some of its edge, after spending so much time enjoying the soft life on Progress?"  
  
Raoul shot her a withering glare. "Do you want me to tell the story, or do you want to offer scathing commentary on the state of my troops instead?"  
  
"I'm sure either would be an education to Squire Keladry," Buri retorted mischievously, "but go on. Truth exceeds fiction, in any case."  
  
Giving her a wounded look, Raoul returned to his account.  
  
~  
  
The battle during Jon's coronation was fierce. Men in Eldorne and Tirragen colors were everywhere, and, though we'd suspected that some kind of rebellion was brewing, we never guessed that it would be nearly as bad as it was. Seeing all those men leaping out of the woodwork and from behind curtains -- don't laugh, Kel, they really were hiding behind curtains! And don't listen to her when she uses that as proof of how bad my security was. They weren't actually hiding there, they just ducked behind them to ready their swords and take off their cloaks. Squire, I thought I told you not to laugh! -- well, it was enough to shock anyone. If it wasn't for Alanna's advance warning, we'd have all died that very day.  
  
I got cut up pretty badly in the fight, but my troops fared a lot worse. Even though we killed something like ten of them for every one of us, you have to remember that a lot of the "us" were civilians who weren't prepared to defend their new king in battle. The Palace Guards all went scurrying off at the first sign of trouble, leaving the Own to do most of the fighting. I lost maybe half of my troops in the span of half an hour, cut down by Eldorne and Tirragen men, and of those that were left, maybe a third of them were seasoned warriors. The other two-thirds were either the very nobles I'd tried to purge out of the Own, or new recruits who'd survived the battle by sheer chance or by finding a very lucky place to hide.  
  
As you might guess, this left me in a bit of a dilemma. I'd only just begun to fill out the ranks again with able recruits, and now it was almost as if I had to start all over again. This time around, too, Jonathan wasn't wild about me trooping down to the Great Southern Desert to round up more Bazhir. He knew as well as I that we needed to include the desert folk in order to be truly effective -- no pansy-faced noble can handle a horse like a Bazhir tribesman! -- but he wanted us close at hand, especially after the rebellion at his coronation. We'd rounded up most of the traitors, and Jon issued a fist's worth of pardons, but there was still always the off chance that another revolt was in the works.  
  
Not to mention, of course, that within a few months we were trapped in a Tortall-wide famine. The magic of the Dominion Jewel that Jon had used to keep Roger from ripping most of the Eastern Lands apart apparently leaked out of the crops our farmers planted. Fields began to whither and die, entire orchards collapsed overnight, and our country folk were on the brink of ruin. We had to start shipping food in from Carthak -- we were still on bad terms with the Yamani at this point, and the Copper Isles had had a stake in the rebellion through their mad princess Josiane, so the new king wasn't ready to ask them for favors -- and my sadly depleted King's Own was put in charge of overseeing the distribution.  
  
I don't know if you've ever seen real desperation, Kel, and I hope you never have to. You know how it was at Maresgift, at Bay's Cove, but this was a thousand times worse. The famine covered the whole of Tortall, and it lasted for far too long to be explained away as natural. The common folks began to get worried, wondering all the while where their next meal would come from. Whispers started, about how Jon's rule was really cursed, about how he'd bring ruin to Tortall even if he did have the Dominion Jewel. People began to get desperate, and when the masses are desperate, they begin to lash out in horrible ways. I had to assign two squads just to protect the supply trains running up north. If I hadn't, some poor village would have taken it upon themselves to claim more than their share, thus leaving another town somewhere up the road to die of starvation.  
  
It was around this time that Jon decided to complicate my life even more by getting married. He'd fallen for Thayet from the moment he saw her, you understand, and she made it worse by not giving him the attention he'd gotten from every other woman he'd lusted after. By the time I got around to saving him from himself, he was so far gone that not even a legion of the Own could have brought him back.  
  
So there I was, already sweating about how I was supposed save the starving people of Tortall from themselves, when Jon decided to take me aside and explain that besides the duties I already held, I was going to be responsible for managing the entire security detail for the upcoming royal wedding. Of course, being Jon, he didn't figure that it would be much of a problem.  
  
"Stop complaining, Raoul!" he chastised me, putting on his King-face. At this point in time, the King-face was still fairly new, and I was having a hard time not thinking of him as Jonathan, the lad I'd grown up alongside of in the palace. "This is nothing more than you signed up for when you agreed to become the Knight Commander of the King's Own."  
  
"I didn't know you'd plan on getting married in the middle of a famine when I agreed to take over!" I growled back at him. "You're only making my job harder, Jon! I have enough on my hands, personally explaining to every estranged villager in Tortall that they can't have more than a bushel of potatoes because, let's face it, EVERYONE is having the same problems feeding their children and there's only so much we can spare! How am I supposed to protect the supply trains AND make sure that no foolhardy noble with delusions of grandeur decides that a royal wedding is the perfect place to make a name for himself?"  
  
Jon gave me a nasty look, and I could tell that my logic had done nothing to win him over. "I am simply NOT going to wait until you decide it's an appropriate time for me to get married! The people are worried enough as it is, and postponing my wedding is not the way to inspire confidence in the crown. They have to see that I'm going to be a real king, a strong king, the way my father never was! What better way than to demonstrate Tortall's strength than to stage a royal wedding?"  
  
I replied with a word that politely suggested that Tortall's strength was nothing compared to our king's growing resemblance to an oversized donkey. In retrospect, Kel, it's probably best if you learn now not to pick a fight with King Jonathan. It sure would have saved me a heap of trouble if I'd realized that early on.  
  
"Raoul," he snarled through clenched teeth, his blistering gaze fixed on my face, "I will excuse that little bit of insubordination as a momentary misjudgment. In the future, you will pay your king the respect he is due, and it is only because of our longstanding friendship that I don't strip you of every noble privilege you're owed."  
  
At this point, I almost told him exactly where he could put my noble privileges, but thought better of it at the last second. Oh, don't laugh, Kel, I'm not always a meathead! I would have thought you'd have learned to respect your Knight Master's judgement by now!  
  
"Whatever you say, your Majesty," I replied, forcing an obedient grin just because I knew it would irk him. "Your will is my command. Your command is my driving purpose. When you speak, I obey. When you desire, I fulfill. When you sneeze..."  
  
"Enough!" he interrupted, waving his hand irritably at me. "Get off it, you old rascal. Just do as I've asked and organize the security detail for our wedding. It's really simple, once you think about it, but you should speak to my Lord Provost before finalizing everything. Oh," he added almost as an afterthought, "and you might want to think about doubling the guard on that next wagon train north. My sources tell me that the fiefs up near the border with Scanra have been getting restless, and it's best to take extra precaution to prevent a disaster before it begins."  
  
Luckily for my often-victimized noble privileges, the King swept away grandly before I had a chance to recover.  
  
It wasn't long before I came to rue the day I'd ever said "yes" to King Jonathan. If I'd thought my duties were trying before his coronation, what with a rebellion to overturn and all, I soon realized that my past trials had been nothing next to what I faced in the future. Now, not only did I have to provide increased protection for the supply trains headed north, but I was expected to plan every detail of security for the upcoming royal wedding, and Jon made sure that I did so with a smile on my face.  
  
"You are NOT getting out of this, Raoul," he told me every time I broached the subject. "There's no one else I trust nearly enough to let them do the job! What, would you have the unhappy masses slit my throat so blood poured down my chest just as I spoke my wedding vows?"  
  
There was absolutely no reason to provide such gruesome details, especially to someone with as weak a stomach as I possess. "What about Gary, Your Majesty?" I protested unhappily. "I'm sure he'd love the opportunity to shuffle some more papers around, even if it is for an actual purpose. Or the Lioness? I mean, after all, she IS your Champion, and with being the Champion come certain unspecified duties that no one else wants to perform..."  
  
"Enough!" the king commanded. "My cousin has enough to do as Prime Minister without worrying about who's going to try to kill me at my wedding, and Sir Alanna is planning a marriage of her own. This is solely on your plate, old chap, and I won't have you trying to pawn it off on anyone else." He gave me a dirty look. "Come to speak of it, you'd probably do well to join us at dinner tonight. Thayet wants to go over the finer details of the ceremony, and I'm sure that intensive knowledge of exactly who is being served by whom is EXACTLY what you need to make your security detail as effective as it can possibly be."  
  
"You're doing this on purpose," I grumbled. "You know exactly how to torment to me, and you're doing it." I examined his innocent face a little more closely, accusation plain in my eyes. "And you're enjoying it, too!"  
  
He chuckled. "I'd be a poor king if I didn't know how to best inspire loyalty and obedience in those I trusted most, wouldn't I?" he asked, not looking nearly as ashamed as he should have. "I'll see you tonight, old chap. Oh, and you can try to wear something nice," he added mischievously. "Thayet will be there, and I know you'll want to look your best for your future queen."  
  
Future queen or not, I decided there was absolutely no reason for me to overdress for dinner that night. For one thing, if I'd worn anything close to my best, I would have blinded every woman in the room with my blazing good looks. Stop laughing, Buri. For another, if I obeyed Jon every time he gave me a command, especially one as outrageous as this, his head would have gotten even fatter than it was already. When I arrived for dinner later that evening in the private dining room behind the grand audience chamber, I was still dressed in the clothes I'd worn during my time in the training yards that afternoon.  
  
Needless to say, Jon wasn't nearly as impressed as he should have been.  
  
~  
  
"And neither were the rest of us," Buri interrupted, her eyes flashing with laughter. "Mithros, you should have seen him! All sweat- streaked, his clothes looking like they hadn't been washed in months, plopping down in the chair right next to the king in his finest satin!"  
  
"It wasn't nearly..." Raoul started.  
  
"Oh, yes it was!" Buri chortled, slapping her knee. "You can imagine what we thought, too. Neither Thayet nor myself had really spoken much to him before that, the big lug, and when we first saw him, we could only stare at each other in amazement! THIS was the world-famous Sir Raoul we were looking forward to meeting?"  
  
Raoul gave her a dirty look. "Other than the bit about Sir Raoul at the end, ignore all of that," he instructed Kel before continuing on with his tale.  
  
~  
  
From the moment I sat down, I could tell I'd made a bit of a mistake.  
  
"Sir Raoul." Jon's eyes were cold, and his voice was disturbingly flat. "I'm glad to see you decided to join us."  
  
"Oh, you know me, Jon," I retorted, flashing him the friendliest grin I could muster, "always trying to please and all. Nice to meet you, your Majesty." I nodded at Thayet, who narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Did we interrupt your practice, Lord Raoul?" she inquired politely, the very picture of everything that is good-and-proper. "I understand that as the Knight Commander, you must have plenty to do to keep your troops in top shape."  
  
"Oh, not nearly as much as you'd imagine," I replied cheerfully, drumming my fingers on the table. "I mean, it's not as if I'm expected to fight a war or anything. Saving the country from famine, planning the royal wedding, it's all in a day's work for me."  
  
Gary -- that's Sir Gareth the Younger to you, Kel -- coughed politely from the other end of the table. "Raoul is just being modest," he told Thayet neatly, trying to save me from myself. "He spends hours each day out in the practice yard, training the new recruits to the Own, and it's disturbingly easy to lose track of time when you're busy."  
  
Thayet gave him a polite smile. "I see."  
  
"No, no." I shook my head. "I was training the lads earlier today, but we finished hours ago. I just didn't see the need to change into something more formal. What's a dinner between friends, after all?"  
  
"You didn't see the need." In retrospect, I probably should have realized that Jon repeating my words was not a good sign for my future prospects.  
  
"Not especially, no." I flashed him a winning smile, which fell significantly short of its mark. I slowly began to realize that, perhaps, the lesson I'd been planning to teach Jon wasn't going quite as well as I'd planned. "Err, don't let me change the subject. What were you discussing before?"  
  
An incredibly rude K'mir girl who had escaped my notice up until then either suddenly contracted a very bad cough or fell over laughing at the sight of me.  
  
Jon gave me a very nasty look. "Just the wedding plans, Sir Raoul...or is that too mundane for the likes of our Lord Commander?"  
  
I didn't know when to stop. "Not mundane, particularly. A bit boring, possibly, but Mithros...I've lived through a war with Tusaine and a brutal insurrection. I can handle a few hours of midwife gossip!"  
  
The sound of Gary smacking his forehead on the table echoed through a suddenly silent dining hall. The K'mir girl, who had apparently finished with her coughing fit, politely found something to occupy herself with under the table. Princess Thayet didn't meet my eye, but I had the distinct impression she was either laughing at me or debating how to have me beheaded.  
  
"Oh, were you under the impression that you were discussing something with midwives?" Jonathan's voice was deceivingly mild-mannered. "Had me fooled, for a minute there. I could have sworn you were here to agree with your king's plans for his wedding.  
  
"Oh, agree is far too strong a word," I hedged, having for the moment apparently forgotten my desire to live to see thirty -- or, for that manner, the next course. "I'd rather think of it as politely disapproving, considering that I'm supposed to plan for all manners of assassins on top of my other duties of making sure that the whole of Tortall doesn't starve to death, but what are a few dead commoners between friends, after all?"  
  
Gary nearly slammed his head into the ceiling in his sudden desire to rise from the table. "Permission to speak to Lord Raoul in the next room, your Majesty?" he practically shouted at the top of his lungs. "I believe we left something unspoken!"  
  
Jonathan smiled, his eyes smoldering. "Go ahead, cousin." Gary had to drag me from the room in his efforts to save my life.  
  
"In Mithros's name, what were you thinking?" he bellowed at me as soon as we were out of sight.  
  
This was probably a bad time to point out that walking around a corner didn't come close to muffling the yelps of an angry Prime Minister. "Uhhh..." I frowned at him. "Maybe if I made Jon angry enough, he'd forget this silliness and let me get back to doing my job?"  
  
"...doing your job?!" Gary was beside himself. I tell you now, Kel, if you thought Lord Wyldon got red in the face when you missed at the tilt, you've never seen Sir Gareth of Naxen in one of his fits. "Goddess, Raoul, he's ready to strike your head off in there! He's your king, not some little squire you can knock back in line!"  
  
"I've noticed," I retorted dryly, "but that doesn't change matters. Why on earth should I obey his every fit and fancy when he'll only come to his senses in a couple of days and realize how wrong he was?  
  
"...wrong he was?!" Gary was apparently having problems remembering that he was a Prime Minister, not a parrot. He stared at me blankly for a moment too long, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. "He's the KING! Raoul, he could order you beheaded here and now, and no one would dare speak against it! How much subordinance do you think he's going to stand for?"  
  
I laughed. "Gary, this is Jon we're talking about. He's not going to have me beheaded."  
  
A frown wavered on Gary's face. "I don't think you realize nearly how serious Jonathan is about being king," he told me quietly. "He may not be angry enough yet, but if you keep up this ridiculous business, he WILL punish you for it. He's not Jon the meathead any longer, Raoul. He's bound to the land and the throne. You're a fool if you think he'll let you get away with acting like this."  
  
"Oh, you've been spending too much time locked away with your scrolls," I replied, slapping Gary on the shoulder. "Don't worry about me, Sir Gareth. I'll reign myself in a bit. But that doesn't change the fact that our King Jonathan is just about the biggest prat I've ever met."  
  
"He's going to get back at you somehow, you know," Gary warned me.  
  
I chuckled. "I'd like to see a king do anything as undignified as taking revenge on a lowly knight," I told him, "and you can tell him I said that. Bring it on."  
  
When we returned to the dinner table, Jonathan, Princess Thayet, and the K'miri were all politely chatting. Gary flashed me a warning look as I took my seat next to my king's fiancée.  
  
"Everything all cleared up, then?" Jonathan asked calmly.  
  
I ignored the nasty glare Gary was giving me. "Perfectly, Your Highness."  
  
"Good." He gave me a polite smile that said, quite clearly, I'm ready to forget if you are. "Have you had a chance to look over my lady's plans for the dinner, Lord Raoul? We'd like your opinion on any possible safety measures we can take, of course."  
  
"Uhhh..." I paused. Gary looked like he was ready to explode. "Not exactly, no. Excusing my ladyship," I nodded to Princess Thayet, "but the Prime Minister wasn't lying when he said that training my troops takes up a good portion of my time. What with the rebellion and all, we've had to start nearly from the top at recruiting new forces."  
  
Thayet eyed me warily. "Of course, Lord Raoul," she replied with a polite smile. "We all understand that our Knight Commander has far too many tasks to perform in too little a time allotted. If you wouldn't mind glancing over the plans now...?"  
  
"Of course not," I replied demurely, the very picture of innocence. The K'mir girl handed over the plans sullenly, not meeting my eyes. Without another word -- not counting the mischievous look I gave Gary, just to send him into another conniption fit -- I accepted them graciously and began reading. The conversation continued around me as I neatly tuned them out.  
  
"So Buri and Alanna will stand in for my maids," Thayet was saying. "Have you asked George about being your second, yet, Jon?"  
  
Jonathan smirked like the devil he was. "I asked him, but he said he doesn't expect to have nearly enough time to practice for the ceremony," he told his betrothed. "I expect we'll have to ask someone else to stand in."  
  
"What about Sacherell? Or Gary?" the K'miri asked, nodding to the Prime Minister at the other end of the table, who was slowly turning back to his natural color.  
  
"I'd be happy to fill in, Jon," my friend told the king, his voice exuding forced calm.  
  
"Oh, no, cousin," King Jonathan retorted with a nasty grin, "I wouldn't dream of adding more duties to your pile. You have enough to do, what with running the kingdom and all. Sir Raoul!"  
  
That jerked me out of my daze in a heartbeat. "Yes, Sire?" I inquired, trying desperately to replay the conversation in my mind to catch up to speed.  
  
The look on Jonathan's face reminded me far too much of the recently deceased Duke Roger. "You see, now," he told Gary and Thayet with a smirk, "Raoul would be all too happy to fill in as my second. He needs to be right on hand to keep up with all his security details, after all."  
  
"Y-your...your SECOND!" I yelped, nearly falling out of my chair. Yes, Kel, that was how I did it. No need to demonstrate. You can stop laughing now before you hurt yourself.  
  
"Of course." Now, all of a sudden, Jonathan was all purity and innocence again. "What better place to keep up with all the last-minute catastrophes that accompany every great wedding than to be right in the center of it all?"  
  
"But...but..." I stammered. "Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith, I don't have TIME to be your second man. I've got to plan all the security details, and organize the escorts for the wagon trains, and train my men..." I scowled. "When am I supposed to find a free moment to go traipsing around flirting with all your relatives when I'm supposed to be saving you from assassins?"  
  
"You should have thought of that before you called your king a meathead," Jonathan retorted. "You did say that this security detail was a bother, Raoul. Now you'll be able to carry everything out with far greater ease than you would have, otherwise."  
  
It isn't fair when a man's words are turned against him. "But..." I tried again. "Jon, seriously! I'm not the one to do this! I mean, Gary's your cousin. He should be the second to you at your wedding! Or even Lady Alanna! Mithros, she's posed as a boy before. What's one more time between friends?"  
  
"Gary has enough to do without worrying about being my second, Raoul," Jonathan told me sternly, "and Alanna is going to be one of Thayet's maids. Haven't you been paying attention?"  
  
"No," I said desperately, looking to Gary for help. My old friend just grinned back at me.  
  
"I warned you that he'd find some way to get revenge, old chap," he told me all too cheerfully, the traitor. I glared at him.  
  
"I can't do this!" I proclaimed to the world at large. Jonathan, his King-face firmly in place again, gave me a commanding look.  
  
"As your king, I am ordering you to perform at my wedding as my second," he told me sternly. "Now say, 'Yes, Jonathan' and get on with it, Raoul."  
  
"But...but..."  
  
"Say, 'Yes, Jonathan.'"  
  
It was hopeless. I could do nothing more than resign myself to my fate. "Yes, Jonathan," I repeated sadly, my head drooping.  
  
"Very good," my king replied with an evil chuckle. "Now, as I was saying. We need to figure out where to position the security detail during the..." 


End file.
